


Skinbound

by K_K_TiBal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asexual Castiel, Bisexual Dean, Canon character deaths, M/M, Selkie!Cas, Tourguide!Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1941606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_K_TiBal/pseuds/K_K_TiBal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester was born with a heart inclined towards the ocean. Despite the fact that his mother had been claimed by it when he was young, he'd never been able to stay away from it. But with stress and bills piling, he never thought that the answer to all of his problems would come from taking an abandoned seal skin home with him.<br/>And, by default, Castiel.<br/>It doesn't take long until Dean realizes that loving a Selkie is like containing the sea. </p><p>If you try too hard<br/>You drown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is going to be updated VERY SLOWLY. It's going to be what I work on when I have time and am not currently writing anything else. Sorry in advance :)

_"Let me kiss you one last time; the morning light is breaking._  
 _I always knew, my love, just what the end would be._  
 _Let me send you on your way, for there is no mistaking_  
 _The cost that every man must pay who comes to love the sea."_  
 _-In This Sea_

           

“Angels are watching over you.”

When Dean was born, those were the first words  his mother had whispered to him when she had finally been able to hold him in her arms that day in the hospital.  She had made a point to tell him every day since.

Mary Winchester gazed down lovingly at her baby boy.

“Your Angel is special.” She murmured, leaning over the crib as little Dean yawned. “I picked him out especially for you in heaven.” Her hand brushed over his face softly. “He’ll take care of you, Dean. I know he will.”

           

* * *

 

When Dean was four years old, he got a new brother named Sam and Dean liked Sam a lot, but sometimes he was really loud and didn’t smell too great. It was different having a baby in the house, but Dean knew that he was going to try to be the best big brother in the world.

Six months later he lost his mother.

It was only between bouts of sobbing that his dad was able to tell him that the ocean had taken his mom from them. Some sort of accident on the beach that Dean was so fond of.

No.

Dean’s ocean would never do that to his mother. He didn’t believe it.

“Daddy,” he tugged on his sleeve, still not understanding. “What about Mommy’s guardian angels? Where were they?”

His dad had only wiped at his eyes angrily as he stood, pulling his arm away and out of Dean’s reach. “Angels don’t fucking exist, Dean.”

The day after his mom’s death, the sky began to cry fiery tears. Everyone came out of their houses and onto the beach to watch it; the adults muttering something about a “meteor shower.”

There were rumors afterward that some of the fragments had actually hit the earth or had fallen into the ocean, but nothing was ever found to confirm the theory.

* * *

When Dean was eleven, John decided that is was high time his sons figured out how to survive in the ocean. Of course, the two brothers were great swimmers after having lived near the beach their entire lives, but it was some sort of drunken revelation to John. So homeschooled swim lessons it was.

It wasn’t so bad at first, Dean could easily tread water up to his shoulders and Sam didn’t do too awful either. Every five minutes or so, John would take a swig of beer and yell, “Farther!”

So they swam out farther.

Dean could feel a slight ache in his arms by the time his Dad yelled for them to come back. Dean sighed with relief until—

“Not you, Dean! Stay out longer! Train your arms!”

Dean’s muscles were screaming but he didn’t dare disappoint his father by giving up and swimming back. He was breathing heavily as he watched Sam swim back towards the shore and towards safety. At least he was safe.

Two minutes later and Dean was officially struggling to stay above the surface.

“Da—“ he started to yell when a large wave crashed over the top of him, drowning out all sound. The boy pumped his arms hard, trying to find breathable air, but he’d been so turned around he wasn’t sure which way was up and for all he knew, he was swimming closer and closer to his doom.

Eventually he stopped.

His arms hurt, his legs hurt, his lungs hurt and it was just easier to stop trying. Dean knew what happened next. He’d seen movies like this before. Sammy would miss him. Dad might, too. Wasn’t this how his mom died? Maybe he could find her down here. He opened his eyes just as a large mass bumped into him from below.

Hard.

Shark? Was that a shark?

It bumped into him again, but all the fight was gone from him. Eat him for all he cared. Dean braced himself for a bite as his vision started to darken around the edges, the lack of oxygen taking its toll on the young boy.

The bumping stopped, only to be replaced by sturdy arms around his waist, pulling him towards what he could only assume was safety. Dean gasped as his face broke through the surface, coughing and sputtering as he instinctively began flailing in the stranger’s grasp.

“Breathe, little one. Stop struggling.”

That wasn’t Dad’s voice. Or Sam’s.

Dean stopped his panicked movements and took deep breaths, leaning back into the chest of whoever it was that had apparently saved his life. He wanted to look at who was holding him up, but he didn’t have the strength to turn his head and see. His vision was still fuzzy and he was coughing up water.

Suddenly, Dean found himself being lifted up gently and set down on the sandy ground. He closed his eyes out of relief, still breathing heavily as he felt a hand rest on his right shoulder. He quickly snapped his eyes back open, hoping to catch a glimpse of his savior. Bright blue eyes stared back at him in worry through the fog of his mind.

“Don’t ever do that again.” It was the same, deep voice. “Promise me.”

Dean coughed and closed his eyes again. “Promise.” He mumbled in response to the voice that now seemed disembodied.

“Good.”

Dean slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

When Dean was eighteen he’d long since stopped trying to convince everyone that he’d been saved by a merman.  No one had believed him, and while it had been a harsh truth for an eleven year old he now realized it had been some sort of hallucination after being half-drowned. He’d gotten lucky he’d washed up on another shore.

His dad had only gotten worse in the years since. Dean was pretty sure that he could be officially labeled an alcoholic. “Mean Drunk” would also work. Or “Asshole”. Tonight, for example, had been worse than others and Dean had made Sam sleep over at a friend’s house so he wouldn’t have to bear the brunt of Dad’s yelling. Dean had dodged two beer bottles and endured fifteen drunken screaming minutes before he walked out the backdoor, slamming it behind him.

He’d always loved living so close to the beach. The ocean had a way of giving him exactly what he needed, even if it was in a way he hadn’t expected. It calmed him down and made him feel like all of his problems could be blown away in the ocean mist. Tonight he needed that comfort.

He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked along the shoreline. This wasn’t shit that a fourteen year old should have to go through or even an eighteen year old, but it was their life and they would just have to deal. He’d been researching how old he’d have to be in order to take custody of Sam, but he was pretty sure that by the time he was old enough, Sam would be legally an adult. Not to mention the fact that Dean didn’t even have a proper job yet. All he wanted to do was work with the ocean. His friends called him crazy, especially since his mom had drowned and he nearly had as well, but he saw more than just the bad in it. People made their choice to go out into it and surrender themselves to its depths. What happened after that wasn’t the ocean’s fault.

Dean shook his head and rubbed his eyes. It was all so fucking nuts. Him. His life—everything. He lived at home with an alcoholic father and a younger brother who he’d had to train to use the five-finger discount in order to eat some days. It was pathetic. He came to a small rocky cliff that he’d climbed many times before and stared up at it. Was it really worth the effort tonight? Dean huffed out a breath and shook his head, turning to stare out at the dark ocean.

What if his mom was still alive? How would things be then? Bobby had once said that his dad hadn’t been all that bad. He hadn’t always turned to beer and whisky to keep the pain away. No one would even talk about his mom anymore. Not dad, not Bobby. Hell, Sam didn’t even remember her. He didn’t even know the details of how she died!

Sailing accident.

The ocean took her.

Heaven wanted her back.

Where? Why? How?

The lack of answers only frustrated him when he didn’t even have a source to aim the anger towards. Had his mom not made some stupid mistake and gotten herself killed, she would still be here. Things would be a thousand times better. He was positive.

Dean began pacing through the sand, kicking rocks and muttering to himself. They could have had a perfect life. Picnics on the shoreline and a warm embrace when he got home from school. That was all he asked for. All he needed. And even that had been denied him because of a single choice.

He swallowed thickly and dropped his head in his hands, trying to keep back the sobs.

Stop, Dean. You’re better than this. You don’t need to fucking cry over this.

It was all too much for him. Things in his life added up fast and he was bound to crack one day. He turned and faced the sea, screaming so loudly it hurt.

“WHY DID YOU LEAVE US??”

He took a breath and dropped to his knees as the tears streamed down his face, the weight of the world crashing down on his shoulders. “Why did you leave me?” he murmured between breaths. Dean looked down at his hands and his eyes fell on the silver ring he’d worn around his finger ever since he’d learned it was his mother’s. All he saw was red. She’d abandoned him in this world and left him with no instruction book on how to survive it.

He yanked the ring off of his finger, and yelled as he flung it into the ocean as hard as he could, not even looking to see where it landed. The ocean had taken his mother. Why not take her ring, too?

Dean hugged his knees against his chest and tucked his face into them until the tears ran dry.  He sniffed and wiped at his nose with his sleeve, keeping his eyes downcast as a sliver of horror made its way up to his heart. He’d just gotten rid of the only memento he had left of his mom. That was the only thing he had left and he’d thrown it away like it was trash. As if he needed another reason to hate himself.

He pressed his fists into his eyes, another scream building up in his chest when he heard a light splash and a dull clink of metal hitting against rock. Looking up at the unexpected sound, he blinked away any leftover tears when he realized what was on the rocks in front of him.

The ring.

Disbelief coursed through him as he crawled forward, his breathing still erratic after all the crying. But. . . he’d thrown it farther than this. It had been lost forever. Dean grabbed at the ring, brushing away the excess dirt and staring. It was the exact same one. He would cry with relief if he had any tears left in him. He slipped the ring back on his finger after staring at it in awe and glanced up at the sound of another splash, just in time to see a small, dark fin disappear beneath the water.

* * *

 

Seven Years Later

 

“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen and welcome aboard Beachcomber boat tours! My name is Dean Winchester and I’ll be your ruggedly handsome Captain today.” Dean grinned widely when half the passengers turned to look up at him from the deck. He waved back good naturedly and brought the intercom back up to his lips. “We’re going to be spending a good hour and a half out on the water. The weather’s nice so as long as that storm the other day didn’t scare all the animals away, we should get to see some seals and maybe a whale or two.”

Dean signaled over to Jo and got the engine running. He could hear the necessary mantra of “Please take your seats while we get the tour started. You’ll be free to roam once we’ve launched. Your lifejacket is located in the—“ It was usually around that point that Dean tuned it out. He’d heard it hundreds of times before and had even memorized the inflexions of Jo’s voice while she gave the speech. Sighing, he waited for Jo to finish up so he could get this show on the road. When Jo finally nodded to him he grinned and got them the hell out of dodge.

This was the one stretch that Dean was allowed to use a little more speed than needed, though he technically wasn’t supposed to. So sue him. He was used to the speedboat that he’d found in one of Dad’s old sheds last year. The fact that he’d been hiding a black beauty like that had pissed him off to no end, but he’d made up for all the years of disuse.

Once they got too close to the fish pier, Dean eased up on the engine and slowed down enough for him to be able to concentrate on giving out the information as well as steering the boat.

“Well folks, coming up we have the Chatham Fish Pier and we should be able to get a good look at some of the Northern Atlantic’s famous grey seals.”

When Dean had first started this gig, the only information he knew about any of the animals that he had to talk about was the stuff he’d memorized in the pamphlet they’d given him. Easily though, he’d gotten curious and done more research into the animals. Not a lot, by any means, but enough to satisfy his curiosity on the subjects.

“What a lot of people don’t realize is that seals are actually huge motherfu—“ Jo shot him a look, “—uh, actually a lot bigger than people expect them to me. The guys, bulls, can get up to almost eleven feet long. Yeah. I know. Huge. The girls, cows—yes, kids, they are really called that—can get to just a little under seven feet. Still taller than any one of you.”

Dean grinned as Jo made her way up the platform where he was. It was actually hilarious how many times she’d had to lecture him about swearing on the job and yet off-duty she was worse than he was. He let the boat drift next to the pod of seals that were all lounging in the sun like they owned the place and well, if you talked to the right angry fishermen, they did.

“Sorry! Sorry.” He said when he took the intercom away from his mouth and the tourists were busy snapping pictures. “Slip of the tongue.”

Jo rolled her eyes and punched his arm lightly. “Dude, just be grateful your ‘slip of the tongue’s’ haven’t been around an offended tourist. Just wait until you get a complaint.”

Dean nudged her lightly with the hand that he wasn’t using to steer the boat. “With this face? Who would complain? I am Adonis in a captain’s uniform.”

“You know who else has a captain’s uniform? Davey Jones. And he’s butt-ugly.”

Dean snickered and held up a finger as he pulled the microphone back towards him. “For those of you that are here in hopes of seeing baby seals, you’re a little out of luck. Those guys aren’t born until September. So until then, feel free to bask in the beauty of the adults.”

As if on cue, one of the larger bulls made a loud groaning sound as he flipped over on his stomach. God, he loved these guys.

Jo rolled her eyes and made her way back down to the main deck to supervise the tourists.

“Alright, we’re gonna continue onward now. There should be more seals further out and if we’re lucky, we might see a whale so cross your fingers, folks.” Dean hung the mic back up and gripped the wheel as he gunned the engine back up He gave one last look to the seals. Every single one of them was laying back and soaking up the sun except for one.

That one seal was sitting up and staring intently at the boat, not moving and not making a sound. It was almost entirely covered in black markings save for a small amount of silver on its belly and a white streak along it’s throat.

Dean looked away, putting it from his mind as they sailed away from the pier.

Weird-ass seal.

* * *

 

Luckily, that group of tourists was pretty low-maintenance and by the time Dean made it home that night he was in a relatively good mood.

Sam always called him insane for wanting to take a ride on his boat immediately after spending a day driving a boat. He didn’t give two shits, though. It made him feel content in a way that he couldn’t explain and that was his business. Sam was off becoming a lawyer in California and while Dean couldn’t be more proud, Sam had started to act a bit like he felt Dean didn’t know how to take care of himself simply because he’d chosen to stay at Cape Cod.

Dean walked out to the shed next to their small pier where he housed his boat when it wasn’t being used. He pulled on the rope until the boat drifted out enough for him to jump into in comfortably and not lose his balance and fall out.

“Hey, Baby.” He whispered, running his hand over the wheel and leaning over the side to admire the word Impala emblazoned in silver on the side of its black exterior. He wasn’t completely sure why his dad had decided to lock it away in one of his many storage sheds, but he could take a stab in the dark that it had something to do with his mom.

He pulled out the key and started the engine, smiling as it rumbled to life. He untied the rope quickly and sped off into the night as he resisted the urge to start whooping when he felt the familiar drop in his stomach.

Dean steered the boat around aimlessly for about fifteen minutes before he found a spot further along the beach where an outstretch of rocks made a shallow cliff side. Perfect. He shut off the motor and slowly maneuvered until he drifted close enough tie the rope to a jutting rock. It took him three tries and four curse words before he managed to climb out onto the rocks, but only once to make sure the knot on the rock was enough to keep his Impala from floating away. Once he was satisfied, Dean stretched his arms and made his way down  the rocks. He couldn’t be sure that he’d never been on this stretch before, but it seemed unfamiliar and it didn’t seem like there were any houses nearby.

Normally he wouldn’t try to explore unfamiliar territory, but the light of the full moon made it a hell of a lot easier to see where he was stepping. Dean meandered along the rocky edge as he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it carefully. The stress that had been slowly piling up the past few months was all being visualized on this stupid piece of paper. There was no way he could afford this. Even with him and Sam both working, Sam’s school bills were adding up fast and law school wasn’t cheap by any means.

Dean kicked a rock angrily and shoved the bill back into his pocket.

He’d find a way.

He’d do what he had to do.

Dean followed the rock he’d vented his anger towards and kicked at it again, feeling a small sense of ridiculous power at being able to kick it around. One more kick and the clattering sound of stone on stone didn’t happen. He looked up in mild confusion and tracked the stone over to where it had landed on top of some sort of brown mass lain across the ground.

He frowned and jogged over to it, careful not to trip over any surprising ditches. That would be fun to explain at work. Jo would make fun of him for days. He crouched down and squinted his eyes, trying to make out what the hell it was. At first he thought it was a dead animal, but it was a little too oddly shaped for that. Reaching out, he touched it hesitantly and jerked it hand back because holy shit that was furry. Or something like it because that was damn soft. He grabbed it again and sighed with relief as he stood, pulling it into the air.

It was a fucking blanket.

Dean laughed at himself as he unfolded it, studying the texture. It was obviously made of some sort of fur—some crazy soft fur at that—but he couldn’t really tell exactly what it was in the dark.

Looking back, Dean couldn’t really say why he decided to take it back with him. No one lived near the spot where he’d found it, and it had probably been abandoned by some teenager or homeless guy. Plus he was curious about it, wanted to see what it was in the light. All he could really admit was that from the moment he’d touched it, he knew he was going to take it home with him.

Whatever the reason, he found himself stuffing the strange blanket into the bottom drawer of his dresser a half hour later. It had definitely been fur. In fact, if he had to take a guess, he’d say it was darkly-colored seal skin, which was all kinds of illegal.

Dean flopped down on his bed, glad that he’d been given tomorrow off, but also hating it since no hours meant no pay.

And he desperately needed pay right now.

He rubbed at his face and yawned just as there was a loud rapping on the door. The hell? He couldn’t think of a single person who would want to come to his house this time of night. Dean jumped off his bed and stumbled down the stairs, only to realize that the noise was coming from the back door. The one facing the beachside.

Dean casually picked up the closest weapon-like thing he could find, which happened to be an umbrella.

“Hello?” he called out curiously.

No answer.

He took another step forward and unlocked the door, pulling it slightly ajar to reveal a very handsome and very naked man.

Dark hair, tanned skin, blue eyes, and a thunderous expression that quickly turned to one of disbelief.

“You?”  the man exclaimed, seemingly unaware of his naked body. A fact Dean hadn’t failed to notice in the slightest.

Dean gazed back in confusion, refusing to open the door more than necessary and trying valiantly to keep his eyes above the belt. “Uh, can I help you, dude? Someone I can call or…can I get you clothes?” He waited for the man to respond but just got a betrayed expression in return. “Do you need help or something?”

The stranger’s jaw clenched and he nodded once. “Yes. You can. You have something of mine and I’d like it back. Now.”

There was something oddly familiar about that deep voice but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, especially when all he could think was, “What the hell is going on?”

“Okay.” He fingered the umbrella unconsciously. “And what might that be?”

Pink lips thinned dangerously before he spoke again.

“My pelt.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more Dean learned about Selkies, the more sure he was that humans were douchebags. 
> 
> And he was starting to feel like one of the humans.

“I’m sorry…what?” Dean frowned, not any less convinced that the naked guy on his back porch was one hundred percent, certifiably crazy.

“My _Pelt._ ” The door was shoved open with enough force that Dean stumbled backwards and nearly fell over because of it. Holy shit this guy was strong.

“Whoa. Hold up.” Dean held out a hand defensively before he realized the guy wasn’t heading towards him, but his kitchen. “Let’s talk about this before you go barging into a stranger’s home, alright?”

The man paused long enough to shoot him a look of absolute loathing.

“You forfeited your right to deny me entry into your home when you stole my skin.” He growled and cast his eyes around the room.

Dean gripped the umbrella tightly and pointed it at the stranger in what he could only hope looked at least vaguely threatening. “Dude, you look pretty okay in the…skin department. You’ve got a lot of it.”

It was kind of hard to ignore.

“Your glorified stick won’t do much against me, human. You should show me some respect.” The man scoffed as he turned away from Dean and began opening every kitchen cupboard available, searching their contents aggressively.

“Aaaaand you’re done.” Dean growled and dropped his makeshift weapon to stride over and shove him away. “If you don’t calm down and tell me what the _hell_ you’re going on about I’m going to call the cops.”

The man let out a heavy breath of barely controlled anger, but he nodded sharply and folded his arms in front of his chest. “Fine.”

Dean relaxed minimally. “Thank God.” He muttered. This was definitely going under one of the strangest experiences he’d ever had. In fact, aside from that time a few years ago when he’d gotten high and thought that Sam had magically become a moose in a hula skirt, this ranked as number one.

“First things first.” He announced. He walked over to the coat closet a few feet away and grabbed the first thing his hand touched. “Here.” Dean shoved it at the man when he turned back around, relieved that he hadn’t moved. “Can we start with your name?”

“Castiel.” He mumbled and held up the coat for inspection. “What is this?”

Dean looked at him incredulously. “A trenchcoat.” He explained, getting real tired of this guy pretending like he wasn’t from this century. “So I don’t have to look at your junk anymore.”

The man—Castiel apparently—huffed in annoyance but pulled on the tan trenchcoat anyway. “You humans are so obsessed with trying to convince each other that you have no genitals, though you all know it’s a lie. Unless, of course, it inconveniences you in some way. Then you go to no ends to prove that you do.”

Dean paused, attempting to let that comment sink in before shaking his head. It was a shame that a guy this attractive had to be completely off his rocker. “Look. Casteel—“

“Cast _iel.”_

“Cas. I have no idea what you just said, and I’m just feeling more and more like I’m an idiot for not calling the cops already. So you have like five seconds to explain yourself and get out of my house or. . . bad things will happen..” he finished menacingly.

Castiel pulled the coat around him tighter and took a calming breath. “I am Castiel of the Seelie Court. You stole my pelt about an hour ago. I would like it back promptly or I will be inclined to release the wrath of the Selkie.”

Hold up.

“I’m sorry. Did you say ‘Selkie’?” He nearly dropped his umbrella.

“I’m fairly certain you’re not deaf.”

Dean blanched. He knew the absolute bare minimum about Selkies, not that he believed the guy. Dean was an intelligent human being, thank you very much. Any information that had been stored in his brain came from whatever he’d stumbled across while he’d been researching seals for his job. He’d seen the name once or twice on the occasional Wikipedia page and had sort a vague idea about what they were, but if someone put a gun to his head and demanded solid facts he’d have nothing. Besides, he was ninety-five percent sure that Selkies were supposed to be gorgeous women. Cas had the gorgeous part down, but lacked the correct genitals.

“Uh huh.” He said flatly. “I think it’s time for you to leave now. Feel free to keep the coat.” Dean promptly grabbed him by the arm, walked him over to the back door and yanked it open. He was a good guy right up until a strange man forced himself into his house claiming to be a goddamn fantasy creature.

Castiel reached out and slammed the door shut again before Dean was able to shove him out into the night. “I _can’t!_ ” He hissed in exasperation and looked back at Dean like he was insane. “You have my _pelt.”_

He took a step back and through his hands into the air. “No I don’t! I really think what you actually need is some help! I have no idea what you’re talk—“ he cut himself off as a realization hit him like a punch to the gut. “Uh…big square of black and silvery….fur-ish stuff?”

The man in front of him took a step forward and his eyes visibly brightened with excitement. “Yes.” He breathed and reached a hand forward like he expected Dean to whip it out of his pocket and give it to him that very second.

First off, how the hell had this Castiel known that Dean had it? There had been nobody on that beach. He would have seen them if there had been, right?

“Did you follow me from the beach?” he accused suspiciously.

Castiel adjusted the coat on his body. “Not technically. I was busy with other things.” He muttered and must’ve decided he was tired of standing as he helped himself to one of Dean’s chairs. “I saw where you lived precognitively and followed the trail.”

“You saw me...what?”

Castiel’s fists clenched. “As much as I would love to explain to you my abilities, I would rather—“

“You can see the future?”

“I—wh—yes.”

“Prove it.”

Castiel paused, apparently caught off guard by the request. “What do you mean?”

Dean smiled and pulled up the chair next to Cas and rested his head in his hands, feigning an innocent expression. “Tell me something about the future, and I’ll believe that you’re a…Selkie.”

Instead of the angry and defensive response he’d been expecting, Castiel just ducked his head down, looking awkward and embarrassed. “It doesn’t work that way.” He muttered.

Sounded like a cop-out to Dean.

A sly grin slowly spread across Dean’s face. “Of course it doesn’t. Tell you what, prove in some way that you can see the future, and not only will I believe you, I’ll give you that blanket thing. Promise.”

It was official. Dean was an asshole who tormented crazy, homeless people. However, there was a little part of him that was genuinely curious, and that part egged him on.

Castiel looked away and nodded as his face burned red for some reason.

Dean leaned back in his chair expectantly as Castiel closed his eyes in what he assumed was concentration. Could be constipation, but he’d hope for the first one.

After two minutes silently staring at a man who was _obviously_ not seeing anything future-y, Dean raised an eyebrow and propped his head up with his hands. “How’s it going?” he mused.

Castiel’s jaw clenched dangerously as his eyes snapped open. “I told you. It’s not something that I can just turn on—“ he paused and tilted his head to the side with a glazed look over his eyes.

For the love of God. If he was trying to pull _That’s So Raven_ Dean was going to have to draw a line.

“Eighteen thousand three hundred and ninety-four.”

The mental accusations came to a halt. “Uh, what?”

Dean jumped when the sharp sound of his ringtone filled the air. “Hold that thought.” He muttered as he fumbled around his pocket for the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dean. How’s it going?” Dean stood and went to lean against the far counter when he heard the sound of Sam’s voice on the other end of the line. Sam had always had terrible timing.

“Uh, a little weird actually.” He muttered and rubbed at his eyes. “But what about you? How’s Stanford?”

“Good, good.” Sam’s voice hesitated and Dean braced himself for impact. It was easy to tell that this wasn’t just a social call. “That’s actually why I’m calling. Sorry about it being so late”

“S’fine. What’ up?” He glanced over at Cas who was intently studying the old family photo Dean had set up on the table, tilting it in his hands.

“I got a statement for next semester and it’s, uh….it’s not going to be pretty.”

“When is it ever?” He scowled as he walked back over to the table and snatched the framed photo from out  of Cas’ hands, setting it gently back on the table a little farther away. “We’ll make it work, Sammy. We always do.”

There was a deep sigh on the other end of the line. “I dunno, Dean. I think maybe I should just stop—“

“Nope. You’re finishing school. Just tell me how much it is.”

“…Eighteen thousand three hundred and ninety-four dollars.”

Dean froze, and slowly turned to face Castiel. “…Say that again?”

“I know it’s a lot and that we’re already stretched super thin—“

“Seriously! Sam! Say that number again!”

Cas was smiling.

“Um, Eighteen thousand three hundred and ninety-four. I think.”

“Uh...just...don’t worry about it, Sam. You’re gonna finish school and it’s all going to be fine. I’ve got to go, okay?”

“Oh. Alright. Talk to you later, Dean.”

The line went dead.

“Son of a bitch.” He whispered as he slowly set his phone on the table.

The man in front of him looked smug. “Have I proved myself to you, Dean?”

Dean’s thoughts were racing as he tried to make sense of the situation. On one hand there was no fucking way that this was possible. He’d seen it, but he didn’t believe it. He _couldn’t_ believe it. Still, if this guy could actually see into the future and was actually a _Selkie_ , then not only would Dean have to reevaluate his entire life, but he’d also have to reevaluate this entire situation. If he played his cards right, this Castiel could be the answer to all of his problems.

And he’d try his best not to feel like shit for using him.

“This doesn’t prove that wasn’t some cheap trick.” Dean muttered as he sat back down in the chair.

Castiel’s eyes burned blue as he gazed up at him furiously. “You of all people should know that it’s not.”

“Me of all—“ Dean shook his head and sighed. “Whatever. Fine. You’re a goddamn Selkie that can see the future. Congratu-freaking-lations.”

Castiel stood slowly until he was near Dean’s eye-level and folded his arms in front of his chest. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I fulfilled my end of the deal. Now you fulfill yours.”

“Okay.” Dean nodded as he stood and walked over to his small living room, not waiting to see if Cas was following him. This was either going to end badly, or it was going to end _very_ badly and he figured he might as well get this half-assed plan over with to see which it was going to be.

The living room consisted of small television set in the corner, a coffee table that he’d picked up on the side of the road, a rug that had been in their family for longer than Dean could remember and a couch just big enough for a full grown man to sleep at least somewhat comfortably. Luckily for Cas.

There was a padding sound behind him as Dean realized that Cas had more than likely followed him in here, anxious to be given back his property.

“Here.” Dean grabbed the worn quilt off of the back of the couch and turned around, tossing it to the trench coat-clad man.

Cas caught it on instinct, but held it out in front of him like it might bite him if he jostled it too much. “This isn’t my pelt.”

“No shit, Sherlock. It’s a blanket.” Dean yawned as he looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly two in the morning. “And that’s a couch. You can sleep there.”

“You promised.”  There was a dangerous steel to Cas’s tone that turned Dean’s blood cold for a brief moment..

“I did. And I’m a man of my word, Cas. You don’t mind that I call you Cas, right?” He patted him on the shoulder once, avoiding the death stare that was quickly becoming one of Dean’s least favorite things. “I promise I’ll give it back to you. I just…need you to help me with something first. Then I swear to God I will give you your pelt back and you can go on your merry way.”

Dean didn’t know much about Selkies, but if this guy was what he said he was, then he couldn’t do a goddamn thing without that pelt of his. He’d feel a lot more terrible about this if he wasn’t actually planning on giving it back, but he was. He would.

Dean wasn’t a monster, but the with the way Cas was looking at him, he might change his mind about that soon.

Castiel shoved past him and stiffly sat down on the couch, setting the blanket down next to him and gazing out towards the window. It was too dark to see much, but the steady sound of the waves crashing against the shore was a constant reminder of how close Dean lived to the water.

“I thought you were different.”

It was so soft, Dean almost missed it.

But damn did that hurt and he didn’t even know why.

Dean flipped off the light switch and raised an eyebrow when Cas jumped slightly. He vaguely wondered how much he knew about electricity and stuff.

Later. He’d deal with that all later.

“Night, Cas. See you in the morning.”

The figure didn’t’ move from the upright position as Dean walked away.

Well shit.

Dean walked down the small hallway and rubbed at his eyes. There was a part of him that still wasn’t convinced this was happening and this was just a two in the morning hallucination. He could accept that there was another man crashing on his couch tonight, but a Selkie? He was going to have to do a ton of research tomorrow. Especially if he was planning on. . .”using” was a strong word. But essentially, yes. Dean was going to be using him.

The first thing he did after pushing his bedroom door open was to high-tail it straight to where he left that seal skin. Gingerly, he pulled it out of his bottom drawer and let it fall open, revealing the shimmering black and silver fur. There was nothing softer in the entire world than this pelt. It reminded him of all the times he’d run his hand through the sea mists late at night, only when he touched this, his hand didn’t come back covered in dew. It looked like the real thing, if not a little big to be from a seal and Dean wasn’t sure if he was ready to accept “magic” as an explanation for that, yet.

Luckily for him, his dad had kept a small safe in the closet to keep a few of his guns nearby just in case. It hadn’t been used for much since his death but now it was going to be the perfect place to store the skin where no one else could get to it. He carefully folded it back up and typed in the pin that he’d long since memorized before setting it inside and closing the door with a small click.

He _would_ give it back.

Dean stripped down to his boxers before he turned off the light. After a few seconds of hesitation, he locked his bedroom door, just in case.

He had just pissed off a Selkie, after all.

* * *

As much as he’d like to say that he’d gone right to sleep that night, he hadn’t. He’d tossed and turned for a good two hours after he’d flopped down on his bed, listening for any sound of movement in the house. The possibility that Cas would off him in his sleep felt more and more realistic as the night grew on and his paranoia grew more prevalent. This almost wasn’t worth it. Almost. If Dean’s tentative plan worked out, then everything would be right as rain in no time and he’d never have to worry about money again.

At nine o’clock, the alarm on his phone blared loudly. Dean groaned and rolled over; reaching over for the pants he’d carelessly tossed aside and dug around in the pockets until he was able to shut off the alarm he’d forgotten to disable that day. Damn it. He didn’t even have to work today.

He scowled at the sun already shining through the windows and shielded his eyes from it’s light. Oh God, he felt terrible. Why had he been up so late last night?

Dean immediately shot up off the bed.

Oh right. There was a person sleeping in his living room.

He scrambled over to his dresser and quickly pulled on the first clean shirt and pants he could find. As an after thought, he grabbed a second outfit and some boxers. He might as well give him some clothes if he was going to be staying here for a while.

The hallway seemed a lot longer when he was dreading what lay at the other end of it.

“Cas?” he peeked around the corner into the living room and frowned for a split second when he saw the couch was empty. The blanket that he’d given Cas the night before was folded neatly on the floor and Castiel apparently had moved to sit in the window sill, staring out towards the ocean. Had the guy even slept at all?

He tapped his fist on the wall three times. “Hey. Cas.”

He didn’t move.

“I’m going to make some breakfast. What do you usually eat?”

Castiel finally turned his head and Dean got the full brunt of the mournful expression on his face right before it was masked by something much closer to neutral. “Fish.” He said flatly and turned back.

Fish. Right. “I think I have some tuna around here somewhere. Meanwhile, you should put these on so you don’t have to wear that coat anymore.” .Dean tossed the clothes on the couch. “Uh, can you figure out how to put them on by yourself?”

Cas slowly turned back around and walked over to snatch up the clothes, his eyes never leaving Dean’s face. “I am not a child.” he muttered darkly as he shed the trench coat. Dean threw his hands up and turned away pointedly. “I can easily handle clothing.”

Dean rolled his eyes and made his way over to the kitchen, figuring he might as well get breakfast started while Cas got dressed. The cupboards were mainly stocked with junk food and easy access snacks, but after just a few minutes of searching, a can of tuna was unearthed.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why Cas was in such foul mood. Then again, Dean knew practically nothing about him, so there was a very big chance that Dean just happened to steal the pelt of the Selkie with the “Most Sparkling Personality” award. With his luck, it was a little of both.

“Easy enough.”

Dean glanced over his shoulder and nearly dropped the can of tuna he was opening. Cas looked grumpy as ever, but he also looked damn good in his t-shirt and jeans, even if they were kind of big on him. Dean had to face it. Cas looked like some sort of Greek God that had just rolled out of bed and it really wasn’t fair.

He shoved a fork in the can, set it on the table and gestured towards it as Cas stared down, unimpressed.

“And what is this?” Cas picked it up and sniffed it once before grimacing and setting it back down.

“It’s fish.” Dean explained as he grabbed a box of crackers from a cabinet. Breakfast was going to be a little sad for everyone today, but hopefully when Cas was done that would never be a problem again.

Castiel scowled as pulled out a chair for himself and sat down. “It’s _barely_ fish. I can smell unnatural substances in it.” Still, he grabbed the fork and started poking at the meat as if to check the quality.

Dean sat opposite of him and started pouring small handfuls of crackers into his hand and popping them in his mouth. Watching him grumpily sift through the fish was mildly entertaining. “Trust me. If I could afford sushi every night I’d do it. But right now it’s either that, some of my crackers, or starving.”He held out the box, shaking it a few times. Castiel peered at it with vague curiosity before setting the fork down and scooping the tuna out of the can with his fingers.

At least he hadn’t started combing his hair with the fork.

Dean set the box down and pushed it over at him, just in case. “I’m going to leave for a few hours. Will you be alright here on your own?”

All he got as an answer was a look of complete exasperation.

“ _What?”_ Dean challenged.

“Are you all alone in this house,” Cas started before dropping some more tuna into his mouth. “Because everyone you knew grew tired of you constantly underestimating them?”

“....Don’t mess with my stuff while I’m out.”

Dean was out the door without a second glance, having had just enough time to see Cas’s smirk before leaving.

* * *

Growing up, Dean would never admit it, but he’d found solace in the library. Sam was the one who was supposed to be the geek about it, so he’d never let it slip that he actually really liked it there. Sometimes in order to avoid one of his Dad’s drunken rages, he’d hide out there with Sam until some kind old librarian gently informed them that the library was closing. HIs first choice for solace would always been the ocean, but the library was a close second.

“Hey, Charlie.” He greeted with a wave as he walked past the front desk. He’d had so much to think about lately that he’d nearly forgotten, but somewhere in the back of his mind knew that all hell would break loose the day he didn’t say ‘Hello’ to her on the way in.

The sound a book clattering to the floor was almost covered up by the loud curse word and shout of “Dean!” He chuckled as a few disapproving glares turned her direction, but Charlie had never once cared what anyone thought of her and he doubted she’d start now.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to say those words as a librarian.” he teased and walked over to her desk.

Charlie just rolled her eyes with a grin and set the book back down on the table. “Oh please. The kid’s section is in the back. I’ll be fine.” She punched him lightly on the arm. “But what’s up with you? You haven't been here in forever!”

He shrugged innocently. “I’ve had...stuff to do. Haven’t had time with work and all.” Time to change the subject. “ Listen, I need to get on one of the computers today. Can you sign me in?”

Charlie stared at him incredulously. “You remember that the WiFi here blocks porn, right?”

Dean threw back his head to stare at the ceiling and sighed heavily. “Yes Charlie. I remember that the library WiFi blocks porn. Can you let that go please?”

After a few clicks on her computer, she grinned and pointed to the far corner of the room. “Number four is open. Keep it clean.”

“Thanks.” He winked and made his way over to the computer, letting out a long breath when he’d finally sat down and logged on. Going to the library for his computer needs was always extremely tedious, but when Sam had left for college the laptop had gone with him and Dean couldn’t exactly afford another one at the moment.

He stared at the blank page, his hands hovering over the keypad as he tried to figure out what the hell he was supposed to be researching. Well. At least he knew where to start.

Slowly, he typed out “Selkie” in the search bar, pressed “enter” and clicked on the very first result.

Jackpot.

And the first entry wasn’t even about the female Selkies, which he’d once thought was all that existed.

_“Male selkies are described as being very handsome in their human form, and having great seductive powers over human women.”_

Well check mark for the good looks, but a big red X for the seductive powers. Or maybe that only worked on women. Huh. Having a power that only worked on one gender seemed kind of stupid if you asked him.

_“ If a man steals a female selkie's skin she is in his power and is forced to become his wife.”_

Creepy.

_“Female selkies are said to make excellent wives, but because their true home is the sea, they will often be seen gazing longingly at the ocean. If she finds her skin she will immediately return to her true home.”_

There was a lot that he’d missed during his quick skim of the subject during his seal research and for good reason. Almost every story or folktale that he could find about Selkies was depressing and ended terribly.

Most of the stories consisted of someone stealing a Selkie’s skin and forcing her or him to marry them because they were obviously pathetic and couldn’t get a human spouse of their own.  A lot of them ended with the Selkie eventually finding the skin and leaving back to the sea almost immediately. Even if they’d had kids, it was like they couldn’t help it. Some of the time the human would keep promising to return the skin eventually to keep the Selkie happy, but never actually plan on following through. The humans would hide the skin, destroy it, burn it. Anything to keep them from getting it back.

The more Dean learned about Selkies, the more sure he was that humans were douchebags.

And he was starting to feel like one of the humans.

The worst story that he’d come across was about a human and a Selkie that had fallen in love after he’d captured her. He’d gone out to sea even though she’d begged him not to and his boat had capsized. Apparently, if a Selkie doesn’t have it’s skin it can shift back into a seal one last time, as long as they’re okay with staying that way forever. The Selkie had thought it was worth it to save her husband and was never able to join him on dry land afterword.

Damn, did a Selkie ever get the good end of the stick?

The powers that they supposedly had were pretty cool, at least. Healing, premonition, _controlling the freaking weather._

Some of the lore was really contradicting. One site said that only the female Selkies could be bound if the skin was stolen, but Dean was going to chalk that up to sexism because he had a male Selkie skin at home to disprove that theory. Another result was saying that a Selkie could visit a human once every seven years.

_“They are not able to make contact with that human again for seven years, unless the human is to steal their selkie's skin and hide it or burn it.”_

But then it went right on to say it was actually every full moon. Or was it ten days? What the hell did _“Every seventh stream”_ mean? This right here was why he always made Sam do the research.

He was just about the close out of the tab and shutdown the computer when one last line caught his eye.

_"When angels fell, some fell on the land, some on the sea. Those that landed on dry ground became the fairies, and those that fell in the ocean became the Selkies, cursed to remain that way until Judgement Day.”_

Angel’s huh? He didn’t feel like it was worth reading too much into. Angels didn’t exist.

Then again, yesterday he would have said that Selkies didn’t either.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you can’t help me--or can, whatever--after two weeks,” Dean continued, mentally checking the date to make sure that it was long enough, “I’ll give you your freaking pelt back. I promise. Just help me out for two weeks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay!   
> You can blame GISHWHES and a family vacation.

“What the fuck?”

Dean paused in the doorway, gazing in shock at the absolute mess that was his home. The coat closet was thrown open with the clothes scattered across the floor; every cupboard in his kitchen was gaping widely, the contents either strewn across the floor or shoved in the very back. He anxiously peeked into the small living room to find the cushions from the couch had been tossed haphazardly  aside and the rug had been rolled up. It was like a small tornado had torn through every room in the house.

“Seriously, Cas! What the hell?” he called out angrily, assuming the guy was still in the house. Though for all he knew the selkie could have run for it, though he doubted he would without his pelt. Unless he’d been desperate enough that he’d decided to shift without it. It was possible, but Dean doubted he wanted to stay a seal forever. “One thing, Cas. I told you not to do one thing. ‘Don’t touch my stuff’, I said. That was it.”

Dean carefully made his way through the clutter of overturned chairs and open doors until he finally reached his room, dreading the mess that would undoubtedly be inside.

Castiel was sitting quietly on the edge of Dean’s--now crooked--mattress, staring silently at the small safe inside of Dean’s closet.

All of the anger slowly drained away when Dean finally realized why his home was in shambles.

God damn it.

“I got hungry.” Cas explained, monotone, “I couldn’t find the food.”

“Hungry.” Dean repeated, shoving his bedside table back into place. “So you overturned my entire house...because you were hungry. Food’s in the kitchen, Cas.”

Castiel lifted his shoulders and let them drop in quiet defeat.

The safe in the corner was untouched, doing absolutely nothing but making him feel like he was the worst human being in the world. To be fair, it was a big possibility at the moment. Cas must’ve found it, realized what it contained, but had no way to get it open.

Dean turned away and blatantly ignored his guilty conscience. This wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever done for money.

“C’mon. Help me clean this up,” he muttered and grabbed at his fallen desk lamp.

After a few moments of no movement, Castiel slowly stood and straightened the mattress back onto the bed.

What Castiel had been searching for went unspoken between them. They both knew very well that he hadn’t been looking for food, but neither one of them seemed willing to bring it up. Dean was perfectly okay with Cas pretending that he hadn’t been looking for his skin, and Cas seemed okay that Dean knew it.  

“So,” he started, trying to get an awkward conversation going to distract from the silent cleaning. “Uh, tell me about yourself, Cas.”

That was an okay thing to talk about right?

Cas paused in the middle of sticking one of Dean’s pillows back onto the  bed. “What is the point of this conversation?” he asked flatly.

Dean exhaled in exasperation. “Well, hopefully to get you to stop glaring at me all the time. Or at least get you to stop looking at me like I’m Satan.”

“Nonsense. Lucifer was charming.”

Yeah. Time for a talk.

He turned back around and folded his arms in front of his chest. “Alright, Cas. I’m going to qualify that promise I made you last night. If I don’t, we’re going to end up ripping each other’s lungs out sometime really soon.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow but made no move to speak.

“If you can’t help me--or can, whatever--after two weeks,” Dean continued, mentally checking the date to make sure that it was long enough, “I’ll give you your freaking pelt back. I promise. Just help me out for two weeks.”

He held out a hand to seal the deal.

The Selkie sighed, distrust still apparent in his eyes, but he thrust his hand forward and gripped Dean’s tightly. “Agreed. Two weeks.”

* * *

The cleaning went by much faster after that. Sure it was still a little awkward, but he no longer felt like Cas was trying to kill him with his eyes. Maybe just maim him.

“So can we go back to the ‘get-to-know-you’ question again or…” he trailed off as he straightened the tables and chairs in the kitchen.

“The question where I tell you about myself?” Castiel  asked as if it was the last thing in the world that he wanted to do.

Dean shrugged “Or I could just like...ask you questions.”

Castiel frowned as he leaned down to pick up an overturned chair, his borrowed shirt riding up slightly to reveal a stripe of skin. From someone Dean had already seen completely naked, that small sliver of skin was doing something...not good to him.

“There is much about myself that I don’t want you to know.”

Well, even ocean-dwelling shape shifters were entitled to their privacy. Dean grunted as he shoved the table back against the wall. “How about this. If I ask you something that you don’t want to answer, just say “next question” and I’ll get the memo. That okay?”

A wry smile found it’s way onto the Selkie’s face and Dean decided that he liked it a lot better when Cas was smiling. “Next question.”

An unattractive snort was lured out of him. “Whatever. Okay. Um, where are you from?”

“Next question.”

Oh well. It had been a long shot anyway.

“How old are you?”

“Next question.”

Dean rolled his eyes as he walked over to straighten out his trashed cabinets. “You’re seriously one of those age-sensitive people?” he paused, waiting for an answer but sighed when silence was all he was rewarded with. Maybe if he started much simpler, he’d get more out of him.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Castiel, who had been in the middle of gathering various food products into his arms, hesitated.

“Green.” he murmured.

A metaphorical fist of triumph pumped in Dean’s head at the answer. Not that the question did him much good, but at least he’d gotten Cas to open up just a tiny bit.

“Good color,” he agreed, and closed one of the doors. One cabinet de-Cassified. “Okay. What’s your favorite thing to do? Besides like...swimming or something like that.”

He glanced over just in time to catch a wistful look pass over Cas’s face. “Sing.”

“You sing?” he raised a curious eyebrow and began to straighten out the next cupboard.

The Selkie’s voice was already so…unique (Dean decided that unique sounded better than ‘low and really freaking sexy’) that he couldn’t even imagine how his singing voice would sound.

“That’s--that’s cool.” he nodded as if he was agreeing with him. “You should show me sometime. That’d be awesome.”

Castiel smiled again and shut the closet doors behind him. “We’ll see.”

Not a yes, but not a no either. He could work with that.

Dean clicked his tongue as he struggle to think of another question. What he’d really like to know is more about his Selkie stuff. Asking about his abilities hadn’t seemed to go over super well the first time. Touchy subject with the guy or something. “Uh, how many times have you like...done your thing with someone?”

“Done what?”

“You know --” Dean shrugged helplessly. He’d really been hoping that he wouldn’t need to explain anymore.. “--that... thing that Selkies do.”

Castiel stared back at him, his face a blank slate.

“Just to clarify, you are asking me to reveal how many men and women I’ve had intercourse with due to my curse as a Selkie?”

Shit.

Dean immediately regretted the question that he hadn’t quite thought through. What he wouldn’t give to suck those words right back into his mouth. “Um, no?” he managed.

“Next question,” came the cold reply.

Dean flushed red with embarrassment. How could he be such an asshole? He intentionally fumbled around in the cabinet as he thought of what he hoped would be a much safer question.

Well, what did he want to know? So much of Castiel was shrouded in mystery and would probably stay that way, but it wasn’t every day you met a Selkie, and he might as well find out as much about him as he could.

Maybe not about Selkies in general. He really just wanted to know things about Cas.

“What were you doing out that night?”

Castiel’s movements slowed from where he was putting the food back. Dean braced himself for another glare but was pleasantly surprised instead.

“I was looking for someone.”

Looking for someone? Who could be possibly be looking for? Dean was pretty sure Selkie’s weren’t the most socially friendly creatures ever, especially with humans. He tried to remember if there were any Selkie stories that could give him a clue to who-- oh. Right. Selkie-dudes searched for unsatisfied women or something.

“Okay. Can I ask who?”

“Next question”

Dean winced internally and nodded. Yeah, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know anyway. But because he was a curious little shit who just couldn’t let things go, he just had  to confirm his suspicions.

“Why were you looking for them?” Dean was all ready to get a ‘Next Question’ yelled at him and move on, but Cas once again surprised him by putting away the last box of crackers and turning to face him slowly.

“Because I haven’t seen them in a long time.”

Whoa. So...non-Selkie related duties. But who on earth could he have been looking for? From what Dean could tell, his kind weren’t overly fold of humans, and he didn’t blame them in the slightest. Maybe he’d managed to make a friend somewhere along the line.

Shit, had Dean prevented him from seeing whoever it was?

Shutting the last cabinet with satisfaction, he turned back to face Cas, but found him staring intently at the table with his arms folded across his chest.

“Did you find them?” he asked hesitantly.

Any speck of emotion that had been on the Selkie’s face was wiped clean into a neutral expression.  “I think it’s my turn to ask questions now.” he announced.

“Wait, what?” That wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all. No, he wanted to keep his stuff to himself--but realistically, if he wanted Cas to start to trust him he’d have to make this a two-way street. He quickly tried to think up some last-ditch excuse to get out it, but one glance at Cas’s face and he knew he’d better just get it over with.

“Fine.” Dean sighed, bracing for some sort of accusational questions that he knew he deserved. “Let’s get started on the mess you made in the living room and you can have at me.”

Dean took a deep breath and made his way into the living room tossing a mislaid cushion back onto the couch. He watched as Castiel bent to pick up a pillow and stared down at it in thought.

“I have a question now.”

Dean grunted.

“What is your favorite memory with your mother?”

He nearly tripped over his overturned rug. Of all the questions that he’d been expecting, that hadn’t even come into the realm of possibilities. What the hell did Cas hope to gain from this? Something to use against him sometime soon? There had to be some sort of reason for this question.  “Why?” he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Your turn for asking questions is over.”

If it weren’t for the fact that he was trying to get into Cas’s good books, he’d flat-out refuse. His mom has always been kind of a touchy subject in their family. Sam, of course had been too young to remember anything about her, but everything Dean could remember he held close to his heart. Ever since his angry outburst when he was eighteen that resulted in him nearly losing his mom’s ring, he’d come to respect her memory a lot more.

One hand  unconsciously began to fiddle with the ring on his finger as he tried to figure out what he was going to say. And what was safe territory for him.

“When I was little...my mom used to sing me Hey Jude to get me to fall asleep at night.” He closed his eyes and he could almost hear the melody. “If that didn’t work, she’d sing a lullaby.”

“Lullaby?”

Dean smiled sadly when he heard the mild confusion in Cas’s voice.  

“You know, like a slow song to help sooth kids to sleep.” he sighed and opened his eyes. “You’ve got to have something like that, right?”

“We do.” Castiel paused as he set the last cushion on the couch and patted it gently. “Can you tell me about your father?”

Oh hell no.

The moment someone wanted him to open up about his deadbeat dad was the moment where he drew a deep line in the sand. That was a whole can of worms that he never wanted to open ever if he could help it. “Next question.”  he muttered.

“What does this mean?”

The dark cloud that had been momentarily hanging over him evaporated when he saw Cas grabbing at the bottom of the borrowed shirt that he was wearing and holding it out.

Dean chuckled and rubbed at his eyes. “AC/DC. It’s a band. They make music.”

Truth was, it was actually one of Dean’s favorite shirts and he’d just kinda grabbed the first thing he’d touched to give to Cas. He didn’t regret giving it to him, seeing as he looked damn good in it, and it was worth it just for that look of confusion.

“And you like the music?”

“Best there is.”

Dean let out a deep breath and glanced around. The house was more or less clean now with only a few exceptions. Nothing that he couldn’t live with for a while.

“Okay. How are your future-seeing powers doing?’

Castiel almost immediately turned his gaze to his feet. “I--yes. They are...they are good.”

“Cool.” Dean grinned and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “You’re gonna help me win the lottery.”

* * *

Castiel spent the entire walk to the gas station in silence, staring out at different objects in mild curiosity before moving to catch up with Dean.

Overall the guy seemed pretty relaxed about machines and things you most definitely wouldn’t find in the ocean, which was probably where he’d spent most of his life. Maybe Dean had seen one too many alien or time travel movies, but something seemed a little off.

“So why doesn’t technology freak you out?” he finally asked when he’d gotten curious enough.

Castiel looked over at him like he didn’t quite understand the question.

“You know, like--” a car drove right next to the sidewalk and Dean took the opportunity to gesture at it. “--Like cars! I’m pretty sure Selkies don’t have cars underwater.”

“You seem to forget that the entire purpose of my kind is to make frequent visits to the surface. As humans progress, so does our knowledge of them.” Castiel shrugged, staring after the car. “What I don’t know, my brothers have told me much about,” Dean glanced over just in time to catch him grimace. “In great detail.”

“You, uh. You have brothers?” Dean asked hesitantly. Five bucks said that small detail would come back to bite him in the ass sometime real soon.

Castiel nodded solemnly. “And sisters.”

“Right, Cool.”

Great. Cas had a fucking family that Dean was probably keeping him from, even if he didn’t seem overly fond of them. Luckily, the nearest gas station was only a few more blocks away and if this worked, he and Cas could part ways that very day with Dean never having to worry about money problems for as long as he lived.

“Can you explain to me what exactly it is you want me to do?” Castiel was gazing down at his bare feet as he walked. He’d made a fuss when Dean had insisted on him wearing a pair of his sandals to the gas station, so Dean had eventually caved, deciding that someone with no shoes probably wouldn’t be the strangest thing that a gas station attendant had ever seen.

Dean sighed. Apparently Cas’s extensive human knowledge ended at lottery tickets.

“So this place that we’re going? They sell lottery tickets. It’s for something called a...well, a lottery.” Dean pushed the “walk”  button on the post as they came to a four-way intersection. “Each ticket has six numbers on them so when you buy, you pray to God that you get the one with the winning numbers and win an ass-load of money.”

He bounced lightly on his toes as he waited and looked over at Cas, who was chewing on his lower lip.

“This...lottery. It’s an important event?”

Dean chuckled as their light turned green. “You could say that. Especially if you’re the one with the winning ticket.”

They made their way over to the small Maverick, Dean smiling in anticipation, and Cas frowning in concern.

“And you would like for me to see the winning numbers, and tell you them.”

Dean nodded as he opened the door for them, the cool air-conditioned breeze hitting them both in the face.

“Okay,” he waved at the cashier, an uninterested high school student trying to make a few extra bucks from the looks of him. “How long do you think it’ll take you to...do your thing?” He put two fingers next to his temple, hoping that was all he needed to convey the meaning.

“Dean, I--” he glanced over at the boy by the counter before grabbing Dean by the shoulder and hauling him to a more private location behind a shelf of chips. “--I don’t think I can. Do my thing, that is.”

Dean frowned and brought his voice down to just above a whisper. “Well ,why not?”

Where the fucking stars not in the right position or something?

Castiel folded his arms in front of himself and shifted awkwardly. “Frankly, because I’m not a very good Selkie.”

Dean paused. “Well what the hell does that mean?”

“It means that had you caught one of my brothers or sisters instead of me, they would most likely be able to help you.” His face was returning to the hard set lines Dean had seen in the first hour after they had met. “ I, however, have never had the ability to pre-cognitively see something of this magnitude. Small things, sometimes. I’m sorry, Dean...I’m...almost useless.”

Dean took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.

He’d have to figure something else out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean dragged his chair forward a few inches and licked his lips as he stared Castiel down. “Lemme get this straight. You think I’m doing this--that I want money...because I’m greedy?
> 
> Castiel paused in thought before nodding like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course.”
> 
> Well, who was he to argue with that logic?

Dean had to fight from slamming the door shut behind him as they walked back inside his house. He’d been so sure--so _sure_ \--that this would be the solution to all of his problems. But just like everything else in his life, it couldn’t be that easy. Oh no. Not even once could he have a simple solution to one of his problems.

Five minutes later Dean was pulling out a pen and paper and sitting down at his kitchen table. He’d given Cas a brief rundown on how to work the television, tossed him the remote, and prayed to God that the Selkie would be entertained enough that he wouldn’t bother him while he tried to figure out what the hell he was going to do. Sam’s next semester was coming up fast and even with the two of them working, they weren’t making nearly enough to keep paying for his schooling. Not to mention the fact they he was still in debt for last semester

Sighing, Dean jabbed the pen at the blank sheet of paper to make a few bullet points. After staring at the lonely dots, he tapped it against the table in thought and doodled a few dollar signs before deciding that he might as well write down all the ideas. Starting with the absolute worst idea first. For all he knew, that might actually get it out of his system and he could work down from there. The pen scratched across the paper.

  * Go back to Abaddon




Yup. That was the absolute worst idea he could possibly think of, but if he had no other option, he’d absolutely do it.  

  * Rob a bank

  * Kidnap someone important and hold them ransom




It pained him to even consider this a possibility, but he forced himself to write it down as another option:

  * Sell Baby




Not that the money he’d make from it would even come close to the eighteen thousand dollars that he’d need, but it would be _something_ at least.

Still, there had to be _some_ way that he could use Cas in all this, right? He had a freaking Selkie at his disposal and he’d be an idiot not to figure out how to utilize that. Granted, he was apparently a pretty sucky Selkie--power wise--but still.

In big letters, he wrote:

  * What can Cas do?




“Not much.”

Dean jumped in his seat at the sound of Cas’ gravelly voice behind him and let out a dramatic breath at the sight of him peering over his shoulder.  If this kept up, he was going to make the guy wear a bell around his neck.

Dean rubbed a hand across his forehead.

“What?” he asked in a voice that he hoped portrayed how much he didn’t really want to talk about anything at the moment.

Castiel pointed to the paper. “You asked what I can do. The answer is ‘not much’.”

“What happened to you watching TV?” he muttered, strategically placing his hand over the top of the page. He wasn’t sure how much Cas had managed to read, but he’d rather not have him see more than he had to.

Hold up.

Cas could read?

Dean shook his head, clearing it of unnecessary questions.

Castiel pulled up the chair next to him and sat down, placing his hands in his lap and shrugged his shoulders.“There was a pizza man and a babysitter and I got confused. I’m not quite sure what a pizza man is, but I don’t think he was very good at his job.” Castiel stared at the table as if he was trying to figure out what the possible meanings of the word could be. “Their intentions seemed less than favorable, so I left.”

Dean had absolutely no friggin clue what channel the guy had been watching, but he doubted he wanted to find out. Pushing his chair out, Dean spread his elbows apart and leaned towards Castiel, clasping his hands in front of him while staring at him intently.

“Okay. So what does your ‘not much’--” he held up his hands for air quotations, “--include, exactly?”

From what he knew, Cas could at least see a few minutes into the future. When he really concentrated. But he was pretty sure he had other abilities, too. Or at least that’s what the internet said.

And God knows that the internet is always accurate.

“You realize that I’m not trying to deceive you? I really can’t help you in that way.”

Dean blinked. That thought hadn’t even crossed his mind, but now that he thought about it, maybe it should have. No, their deal was two weeks. No sooner and no later. Pretending that he couldn’t help him out didn’t benefit him in the slightest.

“Yeah, I got that.” he assured. “But that’s not the only thing you can do, right? You’ve got other Selkie abilities.”

Castiel blinked and tilted his head to the side in a way that Dean was quickly learning meant he didn’t quite understand. “I can name two thousand one hundred and ninety-four species of fish.”

Dean didn’t realize that he could roll his eyes in a way that involved his whole head joining in on the motion. “No, Cas. Not what I meant. Something like…” He struggled to remember what else he’d learned online. “--like weather powers! Got any of those?”

The Selkie nodded solemnly and glanced out the nearest window. “My brothers and I created a storm a few days ago to stop a poacher’s boat from leaving port. I did the least amount of work and it was still strenuous.”

“That--that was _you_?” he asked in disbelief. Cas had that kind of power? “That storm cost me an entire day’s worth of pay!”

Cas’s head tilting problem only got worse. “I apologize if my desire to save a life from a needless death interfered with your greed for monetary value.”

Greed.

That’s what Cas thought this was all about.

Dean dragged his chair forward a few inches and licked his lips as he stared Castiel down. “Lemme get this straight. You think I’m doing this--that I want money...because I’m greedy?

Castiel paused in thought before nodding like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course.”

Well, who was he to argue with _that_ logic?

Dean huffed out a breath and crossed his arms in from of his chest, sarcasm dripping off his response. “Well okay then. I guess I’m just greedy.”

“Exactly. Do you have any other food? I’m hungry again.”

Dean glanced around the kitchen and sighed. No, the food was kind of scarce at the moment, seeing as he hadn’t gone shopping in a while.

The paper in front of him was quickly folded and shoved into his back pocket as he stood. It was getting a little late, but there was more than one store that was open twenty-four seven, and he could use the distraction.

He stood and let out a deep sigh. “We’re pretty much out, but I’m gonna make a trip to the store to get some more. You can come if you want.” he pointed at Cas’ feet as the guy stood up, intrigue written all over the Selkie’s face.

“But you’re wearing shoes this time.”

* * *

“You’re not wearing any shoes!”

Dean watched as Castiel looked down at his bare feet and wiggled his toes at the child’s discernment.  

“No. I don’t suppose I am.” Castiel shrugged. “He tried to make me but I didn’t want to.” He pointed over to where Dean was sulking by the oranges. “Shoes feel odd.”

Dean scoffed as the boy grinned up at Cas like he was the most amazing thing in the world. Granted, he was, but for very different reasons.

“Do I have to wear _my_ shoes?

Dean made the wise decision to jog over and grab Castiel firmly by the bicep. “Yup. Until your mom says different, you gotta wear shoes. Otherwise you end up looking like a crazy homeless person and you only attract attention.” He nudged Cas away as he gave a little wave to the boy.

“C’mon. You need to tell me what kind of food you want.” he grumbled, letting go of him as he pushed their cart down the nearest aisle. Castiel seemed so intrigued by absolutely everything--touching the different boxes with interest and reading every label he could find--especially for someone who had assured Dean that he completely aware of everything going on above the surface.   

Dean grabbed a smaller box from the top shelf and tossed it at the Selkie. “Mac and Cheese.” he explained, watching as Castiel turned the box over in his hands, studying the bright orange dinosaur on the cover. “Cheap, easy to make, and it feeds a lot.”

Castiel was still studying the macaroni when Dean had moved on, searching for other cheap foods. Dean grabbed a few instant rice packets and some spaghetti noodles, silently adding up the cost in his head. His train of thought was interrupted by a noise of excitement behind him. Dean turned,  fully expecting to see another child staring at Cas’ feet with wonder at his rebellion. What he wasn’t expecting was Castiel holding a large box of Goldfish crackers with an awestruck look on his face.

“Can I have this?” he asked, holding up the box, amazement clearly written all over his features.

Dean opened his mouth, paused, and shut it again. Of course. Of all of the snack possibilities for Cas to find, he’d have to stumble on the freaking Goldfish Crackers.

“Those aren’t actually fish, you know.” he said, almost sorry to break the bad news.  “Just crackers. They taste no where near the realm of fish.”

Castiel blinked and looked down at the box before shrugging his shoulders. “If it’s all the same to you, my question still stands.”

Dean glanced at the price and shrugged. It was a little high for a pack of fish-shaped crackers, but Cas looked so goddamn hopeful about them and he didn’t want to be the Grinch who stole Christmas. “Yeah, whatever. Toss it in the cart.”

Cas clutched the box tighter.

“Or hold onto it. That works to. Just don’t open it until we’ve paid for it okay?”

He was rewarded with a tentative smile and a nod of thanks.

God, Dean was not going to lead them to the frozen fish aisle.

***

“So the whole ‘unleashing the wrath of the Selkie’ thing from two days ago. That was all basically bullshit, right?”

Castiel glanced up from his plate of freshly made Mac N Cheese long enough to shoot Dean a withering glare. “Had I been any other Selkie, the threat would not have empty.” Castiel stared back down as if he were suddenly extremely interested in his food and nudged it around the plate with his fork. “However, because I am the way that I am, yes. It was--as you say--bullshit.”

Dean hummed and shoveled another forkful of the cheesy noodles into his mouth before he gestured at Cas intently with his utensil. “You keep saying that. Why do you think that you’re such a sucky Selkie? So your abilities aren’t one hundred percent. You ...do your thing, and you can change into a fucking seal. How does that not qualify as a good Selkie?”

“I don’t.”

Dean paused his eating when he realized how soft Cas’ voice had become. “Uh, you don’t what?”

Castiel had set his fork down entirely and was staring at his hands. “Do my thing.”

“Uh,” Dean raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure if they were on the same page.

“The ‘thing’ you keep alluding to is sleeping with humans, correct? Sex.” Dean watched as Castiel swallowed and brought his head back up minutely. “I don’t do it.”

Dean frowned, trying to figure out exactly how Cas thought that was such a terrible thing. He’d admit that he was actually a little surprised about that small fact, especially with a face (and body, God help him)  like his, but it didn’t seem like something that he should start beating himself up about.

“Hey don’t worry about it.” Dean shrugged gave him a reassuring smile. “You’ll get laid eventually. Everyone does.”

Apparently, that was the absolute wrong thing to say.

Of all of the thunderstorms that Dean had witnessed growing up by the seaside, none of them compared to the stormy expression that Cas now bore.

“And _that_ is why I am an absolute failure. _That_ is why I will never be an accomplished Selkie no matter how hard I try.” Castiel slowly rose to his feet and stared at Dean with such an intensity that he had to resist the urge to scoot his chair back. “Because my kind has one single purpose to fulfill here on this earth and it’s not that I _haven’t_ tried to attempt it, it’s that I _won’t_. I have no desire for the sexual relations that my brothers and sisters have assured me are pleasurable and I don’t understand _why_. _That_ is my curse.”

Castiel shoved his chair aside out of frustration and clenched his hands into defiant fists.

Well shit.

“Thank you for the dinner, Dean.” Cas muttered, turning away from the table. “I’m going to sleep now.”

And with that, he promptly walked out of the kitchen, leaving a very confused and completely whiplashed Dean sitting alone at the kitchen table.

***

As the Winchester way usually was, when a problem came up that he didn’t know how to deal with, Dean ignored it. Last night’s conversation with Cas was something he didn’t understand. He sure as hell  wasn’t an expert on Selkies and had no idea what had Cas’ flippers in a twist, but he was going to shove all that crap aside for the time being.

Dean woke up a little earlier than he normally would have to get out of the house before Cas woke up. He got ready in record time, pulling on his work uniform, grabbing more clothes from his drawer for Cas to wear, and grabbing a pen and paper to write the guy a note so he wouldn’t freak out when he woke up all alone in the house.

_Cas,_

_Went to work. I’ll be back at like two o’clock. Here are some more clothes for you to change into. Feel free eat whatever you want._

_Please don’t mess up my house again._

_And maybe take a shower._

_Dean._

He left the note on the kitchen table and peeked into the living room. Cas was curled up as tightly as he could into a ball on the couch, though he looked to be sound asleep.

Dean sighed, realizing that he’d probably have to get Cas to talk about what he’d touched on last night. Sure, Cas wasn’t going to be here for very long, and Dean was no Dr, Phil, but Cas was going to try and do a favor for him, so he might as well do the same thing. As unhelpful as he’d probably end up being.

Shutting the front door quietly behind him, Dean gradually relaxed as he let the sounds from the nearby oceanside wash over him. In about an hour he’d be back at work; out on a boat and staring out at the sea. He always felt so much better when he was out on the sea.

A small part of himself  tugged at the guilt that he’d shoved away, reminding him that Castiel probably felt the exact same way.

One bus ride and forty-five minutes later, Dean found himself aboard the tour boat, double checking that everything was in order before they launched out into the big blue. Jo was mingling among the passengers, handing out pamphlets and guiding tourists to the appropriate seating areas. She looked up at him, gave a thumbs up to indicate that everyone was where they were supposed to be, and began to make her way up to the cabin.

Dean turned on the engine, smiling as a few of the tourists jumped at the sudden noise and looked over as he heard the door open behind him.

“What are you doing tonight, Dean?” Jo asked as she smiled and shut the door behind her.

_Well I’m going to go home and try and figure out why the Selkie that I managed to capture blew up at me last night and then I’m going to try and brainstorm a way for me to use him to make money so I can keep Sam in school and pay back some debts that really need to be paid back soon._

“I was thinking about kicking back and watching some soaps while pigging out on ice cream.” He smirked and leaned against the steering wheel while he waited for the engines to warm up. “What about you?”

Jo rolled her eyes. “Well as much as I’d hate to drag you away from that, me and some friends are going to hang out at a bar tonight? Want to come?’ Jo clicked her tongue and leaned forward towards Dean, a sly smile on her face. “I also kind of want to set you up with someone.”

Dean sighed. The last time Jo had set him up with one of her friends, it hadn’t exactly ended well for either party.

“I know what you’re thinking, and you should know it’s a girl this time.” Jo grinned and nudged him lightly with her shoulder. “She’s a little bit on the shy side, but she’s really fun once you get to know her.”

If circumstances were just a tad different, Dean would be tempted to accept, but he had a bunch of other problems he had to deal with, currently.

“Look, Jo. Thanks for trying, but it’s just not the right time for me.” He shrugged as he looked down at his feet. “I’ve kind of got my hands full.”

If he’d thought that would dissuade her, he was wrong.

Jo narrowed her eyes and peered up at him, her much smaller form somehow seemed intimidating.

“Are you seeing someone already?” she asked suspiciously.

Dean threw his hands up in the air and groaned. “No! Jo I am not seeing anyone. I just really don’t have time for a relationship right now, okay?” He nudged her back towards the door. “Now get back out there and do your job. I have a tour to lead.”

Jo’s suspicious glare only increased as she glanced behind her through the window, but eventually she started back down the stairs towards the tourists.

Dean rubbed at his eyes before grabbing the intercom above his head and starting his memorized mantra.

“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen and welcome aboard Beachcomber Boat Tours. My name is Dean Winchester and I’ll be your ruggedly handsome Captain today...”

***

The tours had been more or less uneventful. One tourist had argued with Jo, asking if they could get closer to the seals and had thrown a bitchfit when he’d been denied. Other than that, work had gone smoothly. Of course, he now had it ingrained in him to pay special attention to the seals, and he couldn’t help but wonder how many--if any--were actually Selkies.

Dean hopped off the bus at two o’clock on the nose and jogged the rest of the way to his home. Well, it wasn’t currently in flames or demolished, so hopefully that was a good sign.

Dean hesitantly opened the door and let himself inside, looking around to see if anything was immediately wrong. So far so good. Nothing like the last time this had happened.

“Cas?” he called, toeing off his shoes and making his way into the kitchen, stopping in his tracks once he’d walked inside the room.

There was Cas, sitting on a chair and intently staring at the Goldfish Crackers that he’d apparently dumped out and spread across the entire table.

“What are you doing?”

Cas looked up as if he realized Dean was suddenly in the room and shrugged his shoulders.

“I wanted to see them.”

Dean hummed and pulled up a chair next to him, noting that at least Cas had put on the new clothes he’d set out for him, even if they were slightly damp. It looked like Cas had probably put them on immediately after his shower without bothering to towel off.

“Okay. I see you showered.” he pointed out with a vague hand gesture in his direction.

“I bathed myself instead. It’s more preferable to me”

“Whatever, dude.” Dean reached out and grabbed a cracker, promptly popping it into his mouth as he stood back up. “I’m going to go change out of my uniform. Either put all these back in the box or eat ‘em, got it?”

Dean rolled his eyes as Castiel scowled up at him, but he began scooping the Goldfish up by the handful and dropping them back into the box.

He couldn’t help but smile as he made his way back to his bedroom. Why did they guy have to be so damn….endearing?

Pulling his shirt over his over his head in one motion, he refused to let his eyes wander to the safe in the corner of his closet. He promptly walked over and shut the closet door, hoping that blocking the safe from his sight would somehow ease his guilt.

Dean froze when he heard a light tapping on what sounded like his front door.

Who the hell wanted to talk to him?

He quickly reached for another shirt when he realised that the padding sound coming from somewhere in the house was most likely Castiel going to answer the door.

“Hey, Cas wait!” he called, forgetting about the shirt and running back down the hallway to get to the front door.

Just a little too late.

The door was opened and Dean heard Jo’s voice before he saw her.

“Hey Dean, I was wonder-- Oh. Hello.”

Dean skidded to a stop just a few feet from the doorway and looked from Cas to Jo and back to Cas again. The confusion that had been present on Jo’s face just seconds before was quickly turning into a smirk as she raised an eyebrow at Cas.

Silently cursing himself, he flushed lightly as he realized how this looked. Not only was Cas wearing Dean’s clothes (including a Metallica shirt that Jo had, in fact, bought him for his birthday), he was still obviously damp from his bath and Dean had made the genius decision to make a grand appearance without a shirt on.

There was no way he was talking himself out of this one.


End file.
